On my 47th birthday, I set an extra place at the table for my daughter Karen, who hadn’t spoken to me in two years. The silence was heavy, but a hidden birthday card changed everything.
Brad noticed the extra plate and quietly asked if it was for Karen. I nodded, unable to speak.
The familiar dinner smells filled the room, but the empty chair was a painful reminder of our broken bond. I called Karen, but she didn’t answer. Brad held me as I cried.
Later that night, I found a birthday card Karen had written but never sent. Her words showed her pain and desire to reconnect.
I told Brad I needed to visit Karen’s father, Nigel, and he offered to come with me. At Nigel’s house, I learned Karen had moved to Canada and changed her contact info.
Nigel handed me the card Karen left behind. Reading it gave me hope.
The next day, I flew to Canada. When Karen opened the door, we embraced, and the years of silence began to heal.
